Time spent with cats is never wasted.
Truer words were never uttered. (All right, very few truer words were ever uttered.) Who said them?
The same person who said,
Everywhere I go, I find that a poet has been there before me.
Hey, I can get with that, too. Or:
Dreams are most profound when they are the most crazy.
Such a pronouncement is ironic, coming from a man who hated radios and telephones--he would use the latter, but only when absolutely necessary--because of the noise they made. He even hated music! He also hated motorcycles, which came out in the middle of his life, for the same reason.
He also hated bicycles, which no one--not even his closest family members and associates--could explain. He never explained it himself. However, I think it may have had something to do with his being a control freak, a label attached to him by everybody who knew him. Or it may have been about his relationship with his son, who was an avid cyclist.
Ahh, father-son conflicts. Did I hear "Oedipal"? All right...now, perhaps, you have a clue to whom I'm referring.
Yes, I am talking about none other than Sigmund Freud-- who, if he were alive, would be 160 years old today.
What would he make of the fact that so many cyclists, particularly males, are riding longer cranks these days? What would he have to say about wheels, and what our choices about spoke patterns--or discs--say about us?
About his hatreds: Here's one that, perhaps, overshadows the others:
Yes, America is gigantic, but a gigantic mistake.
What would he make of the current Presidential race?
Truer words were never uttered. (All right, very few truer words were ever uttered.) Who said them?
The same person who said,
Everywhere I go, I find that a poet has been there before me.
Hey, I can get with that, too. Or:
Dreams are most profound when they are the most crazy.
Such a pronouncement is ironic, coming from a man who hated radios and telephones--he would use the latter, but only when absolutely necessary--because of the noise they made. He even hated music! He also hated motorcycles, which came out in the middle of his life, for the same reason.
He also hated bicycles, which no one--not even his closest family members and associates--could explain. He never explained it himself. However, I think it may have had something to do with his being a control freak, a label attached to him by everybody who knew him. Or it may have been about his relationship with his son, who was an avid cyclist.
Ahh, father-son conflicts. Did I hear "Oedipal"? All right...now, perhaps, you have a clue to whom I'm referring.
Yes, I am talking about none other than Sigmund Freud-- who, if he were alive, would be 160 years old today.
What would he make of the fact that so many cyclists, particularly males, are riding longer cranks these days? What would he have to say about wheels, and what our choices about spoke patterns--or discs--say about us?
About his hatreds: Here's one that, perhaps, overshadows the others:
Yes, America is gigantic, but a gigantic mistake.
What would he make of the current Presidential race?
